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Who: Alisaie Leveilleur (

adelphoi) & you nerds
What: October general shenans
When: All month
Where: Everywhere potentially but probably just at her house mostly
Warning(s): Sick.. stuff?? idk probably nothing but will update if necessary.

PART 1;

a; aftermath

[ alisaie is not present in the marketplace when the attack occurs, but the resounding boom cannot be missed, even from her home flat. it's a hectic hour or so while she rushes to figure out what has happened, and when riza returns home sick she feels a heavy misgiving sink deep into her stomach. disease is not an enemy she can fight with her rapier, it's something insidious, something sneaky and unpredictable - gods help them find a remedy soon.

immediately, she's dashing right to work. with riza ill they'll need supplies - healthy foods, spare blankets, medicinal herbs, ice, a great deal of ice. once she's set with her list she's off to the institute and markets to gather what useful things she can, stuffing them into a canvas shoulder bag, but you can certainly bet that she'll stop to assist in any way she can, whether it's righting an overturned cart or leading those who were injured in the panic to the sanctuary.

of course, it's not long before she's feeling rather warm and dizzy herself and, of course, chalking it up to the rush and mayhem. maybe she'll just.. sit down a moment. ]

b; sickbed;

[ alisaie is an awful patient.

keeping her in bed is no easy task, and there's an itch under her skin that urges her to move, to work - there's so much she could be doing, ways she could be helping. this disease is a godsdamned prison.

she's responsible enough to at least not mingle with the public, lest she spread this horrible mystery illness further, but she cannot remain strictly indoors in bed for so long, not without losing her mind. so when she can, when the weather is tepid, alisaie sits on the second floor deck of her flat, wrapped up in a blanket, usually with a book (or stack of books), enjoying the fresh air on her too-hot face. ]

c; reaching out

[ what else can you do when you're more or less bedbound? catch up on the internet, of course. mostly, alisaie keeps an eye on the network for any updates, and takes the time to reach out to those she knows, to doublecheck that they're safe. if you've met her even once or twice, chances are she will toss a line out and test the waters. incoming message from RedMage: ]

This is Alisaie; how are you faring?

PART 2;

a; wandering

[ it's late evening the first time she sees him.

though first she hears him, the familiar voice of her grandfather calling her out of her dreams, warm and welcoming. she wakes in her bed, slick with fever sweat and surrounded by silence - mayhaps she had misheard it? it must have been a dream, her head is spinning. but then it comes again, distinct and clear; it has been years since she last heard his voice but it is not a sound that she would ever forget. ]

Grandfather..?

[ dizzy and disoriented, she climbs out of bed and stumbles toward the open window, squinting into the slanting light of sunset just in time to see the shape of him, louisoix leveilleur's all too familiar form disappearing around the corner. immediately her heart kicks up into her throat and alisaie gasps and turns, stumbling back through her bedroom and out of the house, down the stairs and onto the street barefoot, in her nightdress, to follow a ghost. ]

No, please wait.. don't leave me again..

[ how long she wanders in this delirium she cannot say, but her feet are sore and scratched and muddy, her hair down and wild from sleep and the tugging winds. she may run right into you, or trip over a flagstone, but short of forceful intervention nothing will keep her from her goal. ]

b; friendly fire

[ for those of you unlucky enough to visit her (or stop by her home for some other purpose) while the symptoms continue to worsen, you will find that her delirium has not abated. between bouts of lucidity and sleep she tries still to wander, to follow the voices and phantoms of her family and friends to whatever oblivion they might call her to, but it is not only friends she sees. sometimes it is enemies or horrible, twisted monsters. it's hardly a problem if she wanders outside, weaponless, but any creak of sound within her home would easily alert her.

blinking blearily, alisaie tumbles out of bed at the noise, her heart thudding and her mind cloudy, and she does not think twice before taking up her rapier and focus which lie across a chair in her room and stumbling into the dimly lit common area. her voice is rough from coughing. ]

Who.. who goes there?

[ catchall for october! alisaie will spent much of it being sick, apparently, so feel free to crash her place and visit.. make sure she stays in bed. get her texts or send her one, or meet up in the market!! if none of these prompts work for you i'm more than happy to work something out and write up a starter. ♥ plotting comment is here, or i can be reached on plurk for planning. i'm game! ]

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[ muggy mess indeed, but it still feels nice to be clean, the smell of crisp, fresh linen far more inviting than her previous sweat and dirt and blood eau de alisaie. ]

No.. not really.

[ which is odd enough, really. she's had nothing to drink in quite some time, and for as warm as it is, how sick she is, and hard the journey had been you would think her all but desperate for water. but.. she's not. what she wants more than anything is to lie back, to stop moving for awhile, to sleep.

with slow, careful movements she shakes out her hair and pulls it over one shoulder to keep the damp mass of it off of the sheets and - oh. sheets. these are a mess, dirty and crusted with dried blood. a soldier's work is never done. pulling the pillow into her lap, she tugs away the bloodstained case. ]

I'm just tired.

[ Another worrying sign - as if anything about her condition isn't worrying - but at least she won't be able to see the way his expression tenses up, his back to her as he tugs on his clothing. What was this sickness doing to her? Even when the hallucinations had started, she'd still had an appetite. She wasn't bleeding from her face.

It's like it's slowly picking apart her entire self. Her body, her mind - now even those most basic instincts seem to be fading.

How much longer -

No. ]

Try to get some rest while I pick up - [ He turns back around as he tugs his shirt over his head, notices her tugging off the pillowcase, and adds: ]

I-I can take the sheets and wash them, too.

[ They're going to need a few sets to rotate through at this rate. ]

Prompto -

[ there's a hard edge to her voice, and she sighs just after, dropping her hands into her lap and leveling him with a tired, but unflinching look. ]

There's a spare set in my bag, I wasn't sure what to expect when we arrived.

[ that there were already sheets on the bed is a lucky happenstance, all things considered, though yeah they might need.. more.. in the coming days. for now the clean set she's brought will do, and a towel laid across the pillow. ]

Please, you need to get some rest.

[ He almost insists on washing the sheets now anyway, because they're going to need them, but that look in her eye is enough for the suggestion to die on his tongue. But he can't quite concede to her request for him to rest. Not yet.

And not...anytime soon, if he's being truthful with himself. ]

I will! After you're fed and sleeping like a baby.

[ But he doesn't quite meet her eyes as he says that, instead perching on the edge of the bed to lace up his boots. ]

[ her steady eyes follow him, and she doesn't quite trust what he's saying, considering the way he won't look at her face, but she'll cross that bridge when they come to it. it's been a long handful of days for the both of them and he needs rest just as badly as she does if he hopes to stay on his feet.

but for now.. sheets. she has to psych herself up to stand again, using the nightstand for support until she's on her feet, and moving to dig the fresh linens from her bag. ]

I suppose I can agree to that.

[ so get a move on!! the faster they finish this the sooner they can snuggle, and they are both in dire need of some snuggling. ]

[ He's so close to asking her to sit down again and let him change the sheets before he goes, but the stern way she'd said his name a moment ago is still ringing in his thoughts. With the way things are going now...it seems like she's going to need his help more and more until the cure is ready. So...while she's still able, he'll let her do this.

So with an inward sigh, he glances back to the door, checks to make sure he has enough silver in his pocket, and starts to leave. ]

I'll be back in a jiff. Don't hesitate to call if...you know.

[ For any reason now. ]

[ straightening up with an armful of wrinkled sheets, alisaie sniffs, using a knuckle to wipe a droplet of blood away from her nose. ]

Of course. Please.. be careful.

[ this city is new and different to both of them, and for all intents and purposes they are 'the enemy,' civilians or not. she has no idea how the populace of wyver feels about this invasion, nor does she know anything at all about the personal climate of the city, or what to expect of, well, any of it. prompto can take care of himself, but still she feels the need to say it. ]

...I will.

[ Sober words and hardly ones that he wants to depart with instead of something bright and cheery, but he can't quite muster up the gusto he'd need for that. So with one final look back at her, wiping blood from her nose, he turns and goes, his features squeezing tight once he's no longer facing her.

It won't take him long, to find some soup for them, even in this climate, but any time away from her feels like too long these days. After all, it could only take a handful of seconds for something to go terribly wrong, and his stomach is in tight knots the entire time he is away. Is she still okay? What would he come home to this time?

They're questions impossible not to ask himself. She has her plague - and this is his. ]

[ there's more than a little regret in her heart as she watches him go, and a healthy helping of guilt, but then, these days she is always feeling guilty. this illness has taken its toll on everyone around her, and to see prompto so tired, so worn down from it all is a slow poison far more potent than the one currently coursing through her veins. will they even be the same, after this? assuming she makes it through at all. could he still love her after all she has put him through?

with a soft sigh, alisaie glances down toward peo, who wags his tail slowly, hopefully, before she's getting to work.

all told it takes fifteen minutes or so, far longer than it should take any able-bodied young girl to do something so simple as change bedsheets, but this is the life that she is slowly growing accustomed to. she lays a towel over the pillow to preserve the fresh linens as long as possible, sets another on the nightstand and sinks immediately into bed, gently patting the space beside her to invite peo up and into her arms. with one hand she holds him near to her chest, the other winding tight around the silver locket at her neck and holding fast. ]

[ Not a handful of minutes after Alisaie has finished changing the sheets does Prompto return, with a sack of soup from a nearby vendor as well as a couple of jerky strips for Peo to go to town on. The bedroom is his first destination when he returns, before he even sets down the bag. He can't help the feeling of dread that blossoms in his chest as he steps through the doorway, but it evaporates almost instantly at the sight of Alisaie and Peo tucked into bed together. So he had nothing to be afraid of after all.

This time.

Still, they're here and he's here and the promise of finally getting off his feet for awhile is so tantalizing that he's quick to drop the bag on the bed, slide his boots off, and lean into press a kiss to her brow. ]

Hey.

[ The tension is still rolling off of him, but he already looks far more relaxed than he did before he'd left. ]

[ even though prompto is returning only a few scant minutes after she's crawled under the sheets, alisaie is dozing by the time he sits at the edge of the bed. her fatigue these last few days has been relentless, she could sleep for hours and hours and still not feel rested, though in many ways she finds it a bit of a boon. she cannot wander off after illusions or attack innocents when she hardly has the energy to be out of bed at all, and it's for this reason alone that she's yet to insist he strap her down. should she even escape at all she hardly has the strength to bruise a fly, let alone seriously injure anyone. small blessings.

the gentle pressure of his kiss has her eyes flickering open again, and prompto may recognize the distant bleariness, how her eyes take on that misty, unfocused quality that means her thoughts are tangling, her memory stuttering. for a few moments she stares sleepily at the bag, a crease slowly forming between her brows. ]

What's that?

[ at least it's not him she's forgotten, this time. ]

[ It's a sad thing to acknowledge, how he's come to recognize that look in her eyes by now. But at least she seems to recognize him, she's not coughing blood into her hands (for the moment), even if she doesn't remember what he'd left to do. ]

Dinner! Went for the potato soup option. Seafood soup seemed kiiiiind of adventurous, given... [ You know. What part of town this is. Another reason to stay awake tonight. :')

He hands her one of the cups of soup and a spoon, before sliding off the bed again to grab some water from the kitchen. As he's returning: ]

Aaaand no dessert until you finish your soup. [ He sets the glass down on the nightstand before settling onto the bed again, cross-legged and wearing a smile for her. ]

[ alisaie's eyes follow his movements slowly, dazed and languid, and it takes her a good ten seconds or so of looking at the soup and spoon he's offering before she finally figures out what he wants from her. her head feels stuffed full of cotton.

she sits up, leaning back against the headboard and taking them in her hands, and all the while prompto is gone fetching water alisaie stares at it. despite the fact that it's likely been an entire day since she's eaten, this soup looks wholly unappetizing, the smell of it alone enough to turn her stomach. when he returns, she hasn't eaten any yet, she's just stirring the spoon around in the soup and looking down on it with marked disdain. ]

Dessert?

[ her eyes flick up toward his face. ]

.. no, thank you. Maybe later.

[ what has this world come to when alisaie is refusing dessert ]

[ yes, this is truly the moment where he realizes she's dying

But he can read her expression well enough even before she answers. She...really doesn't want to eat, does she? Too bad it's not super optional right now. If she can't remember the last time she ate, on top of being sick already, then she needs this more than ever. ]

...Then just the soup for now. [ He tries to sound stern about it, but it's so against his usual demeanor that it almost sounds a little bit sarcastic. How does Ignis do this??? He makes a much better mom than Prompto does.

He scoots back onto the bed next to her before prying open his own soup cup. ]

Just...try to eat as much as you can. Please?

[ do it for him :( ]

[ the sad eyes.. they're far more effective than any mother henning ignis could dish out tbh. at least for alisaie. her tsun heart melts at the sight of his puppy dog eyes.

with a sigh and a withering glance, she stares down the soup again for a few more seconds before lifting the spoon and taking a mouthful. ugh. she's sure it's probably quite delicious, but her reaction is visceral nonetheless; the wave of nausea is sudden and quick, and it takes some real willpower to swallow it down, but she manages.

another minute, another spoonful, another wave of nausea. maybe it's meant to be nourishing but it's sitting thick and heavy in her stomach, disagreeing with everything.

the things she does for love. ]

[ A little of his immediate concern passes when she finally relents and takes a bite - even if her reaction instills a whole other kind of concern in him. It's not that she doesn't want to eat, is it? Even eating is making her feel sick now.

He watches her a moment, expression tight before he reaches out to slide his hand behind her shoulders. Seeing her like this is nearly unbearable - he can't imagine what it must be like for her, to actually go through it, and everything he tries to do to help is just...inadequate. Would it be better, if he took her to wherever Wyver was tending to their ill? Surely they had better ways to help patients cope with this illness. Has he just been selfish, refusing her requests to take her to the Sanctuary?

He doesn't know. But that's not new.

He doesn't say anything in response, dropping his gaze back to his soup and swirling his spoon around. Funny, he doesn't have much of an appetite now, either. ]

[ in the end she's only able to finish about half of her meal, due mostly to the gentle steadiness of his hand against her back; any more than this and she's sure it would be coming right back up, which would make this entire struggle moot, really. alisaie swallows thickly and sets the cup aside on the nightstand, exhaling hard.

she just changed these sheets, she really doesn't want to barf on them.

to distract herself from her churning stomach, alisaie turns to tuck herself into prompto's side, both of her arms winding around one of his, resting her heavy, aching head against his bicep and closing her eyes. ]

I've an idea.

[ partly she wants to distract him, to warm up the atmosphere, but the memory game she plans to propose will serve another purpose. ]

Will you tell me a story? About Eos, and how you grew up?

[ He manages to down most of his soup, because no matter how knots are rolling in his gut, as soon as the first spoonful reaches his lips he remembers how positively famished he is. Rationing food while traveling hadn't exactly been ideal for anyone, especially when you're someone who always puts your own needs last.

Okay, maybe she's not the only one who can't remember the last time they ate.

But the nerves are still there, tense and coiling - at least, until Alisaie wraps her arms around his and curls against him. Her touch never fails to unravel him, her proximity an instant balm to the deep-seeded worries that have wormed their way into his heart. He's even gotten used to her feverish heat by now, for better or for worse.

So he snuggles close, his other arm coming around to wind around her side, a pensive - if exhausted - look upon his face. Her question has his eyebrows raising gently. ]

Ha - you wanna know about that?

[ A story from growing up on Eos...unsurprisingly, there weren't...many happy ones. But there were a few, and there's one in particular that springs to mind to share. ]

Well...how about the time I saved the Oracle's dog? That's a pretty good one.

Mhm.

[ listening to him may not help. her rapidly fragmented memory is certainly not healing, so there is no guarantee that asking him to recount his life will help at all, but she must try. if nothing else it will help to pass the time in peace.

a soft chuckle bubbles in her chest, and alisaie smiles around the taste of blood in her mouth. ]

Is this a habit of yours? Saving dogs?

[ A breathy laugh rolls off his tongue, welcome and comfortable. ]

Heh, guess so. What can I say? They're pawsitiviely irresistible.

[ But before she can defy all odds and sock him in the gut for that, he goes on in his tale, eyes clouding slightly as he looks far back into his memory, at another life, another person. ]

Her name was Pryna. Not that...I knew that at the time, but I just found her one day when I was walking home from school. Her leg was hurt, so I brought her home with me. Needless to say, I didn't realize I'd stumbled upon a famous pooch like that at the time.

[ So often he's looked back on that day and wondered if his finding Pryna had been an act of fate, if the fates were at all concerned with someone as inconsequential as him. But it had set everything in motion. If not for that, he would have never befriended Noctis. He never would be the man he is today.

It's - a strange feeling, the little prickle of pride that comes with that realization. ]

My parents - they weren't...around a whole lot. So I had no problem keeping Pryna with me. I called her "Tiny" - real original, I know. But I...

[ Well. To fully appreciate this story, it must get at least a little bit sad. ]

I...didn't really have friends growing up. Every day was just kind of the same old thing, and I really only had my pictures to keep me company. But taking care of Pryna gave me a real purpose. Something that only I could do.

[ prompto begins his story and alisaie closes her eyes to listen, the sound of his voice comforting and sweet. she could listen to him four hours, fall asleep to his stories and tales from eos. soon enough, she might.

but for now she's determined to stay awake, to listen to him and hear about his youth. in her mind's eye she's picturing it, little freckled prompto, probably cute as a button, lonely and shy. that he had no friends is a little bit surprising, considering his sunny, gregarious disposition, but it goes a long way to explain the state of his self-esteem as well. being born the way he was, knowing his origin.. she can only conclude that he was unsure of himself, insecure. ]

Why was she famous?

[ It's an unusual sort of phenomenon for him, telling a story like this. He's not really accustomed to talking about himself, to say nothing of his past, which he so often kept tucked away behind his laughter and smiles. But he wants to share this with her. Wants her to know who he was, where he came from. ]

Her owner - the Oracle - she was...her name was Lunafreya. She was the bridge between the Astrals and the rest of us. I mean, sure - she could commune with the gods, but she was...like a hero to the people, too. A shining light when everything else was going dark.

[ And so literally, too. Once Luna had died, the Starscourge had such an easy time taking the world, and Prompto's gaze turns a touch morose. ]

The next day when I woke up, Pryna was gone. I tried looking for her, but I figured...she'd just felt better and found her way home. Anyway, I guess the cloth I used to tie her leg up had my name on it, because I got a letter from Lady Lunafreya herself a few weeks later.

[ A soft chuckle. ]

She thought because I went to the same school as Noct, we probably knew each other, and so she...asked me to be his friend. See, uh - Noct and Luna...they went waaaaaay back. So she wanted me to look out for him, I guess. Since I looked out for Pryna.

[ the story unfolds bit by bit, and alisaie finds that she is not surprised by any of it. from the first, even when she chastised him for misusing his time, he has always been sweet and friendly. that someone else would have seen that in him - even through such a small mundane act as helping an injured dog - seems to fit with everything she knows about him. everything she's experienced with him.

alisaie smiles, and chuckles quietly. ]

Is that how you met him, then? And your other friends?

[ alisaie does not believe entirely in fate or destiny - the idea that her life could be predetermined or decided for her does not sit well with a girl so headstrong as herself. but sometimes, in some ways, she thinks that there are things that must happen for a reason, that destiny, though not omnipotent, might sometimes be able to give a gentle nudge in the right direction. ]

[ Softly, but so warmly: ]

Yeah. It...took me awhile to work up the courage to talk to him, though. [ Like...a few years. It seems impossible now that he was ever so nervous to talk to Noctis, his best friend after all these years, but how could he not be nervous? Noctis was the crown prince - and Prompto...well. He was just Prompto. His origins aside, he still would have been anxious about such a task.

But Luna had been counting on him, and he wasn't about to let the Oracle down. ]

I tried once to talk to him after school and it was sooo embarrassing I thought I would die. I mean, big surprise, I was pretty self-conscious then, too, but...

[ His mouth quirks. ]

See, I used to be kind of... [ He bobs his head, trying to find the right word. ] Uh. Fluffy. Horizontally tall. Rotund, if you will.

[ Chubby. He was a chubby kid. ]

[ fluffy.

it takes alisaie a half a moment to understand what he means, and when she does she laughs, soft and gentle and fond, one arm unwinding from around his to slip around his middle, patting his stomach.

it's hard to imagine prompto as anything but the noodle he is, one would think his boundless energy would burn up every spare calorie. ]

I am certain you were terribly cute.

[ cute little awkward tubby freckled bab.. precious young plumpto ]

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